Welcome to my Life
by Spice of Life
Summary: Dil's life was perfect...but nothing stays perfect forever.


La de da….yes, I'm fully aware people are threatening to kill me if I don't update some of my stories soon. I'm also fully aware that I've run out of excuses for not updating them. My jolly trip to author's block land has taken longer then I expected. The block has turned into….an….even….bigger block….or something like that

If you're waiting for me to update any of my Halloween stories….you'll have to wait until after Halloween. I know, yeah. That defies the whole purpose, but I just cannot seem to get into the mood of picking up from where I left off of any of my old fics. No, I have a strange illness that is now possessing me to mass produce new stories like a whirlwind, none of which I have added more chapters too, lately.

I have a huge problem with updating stories….in fact, in all my time of fanfic writing, I have only ever finished about 5 stories. This is indeed a rather sad and pathetic fact, since I have what….20 something fics running just on here?

I'm also fully aware I'm a rambling idiot right now, but that's okay.

So, anyway….I just picked up the new Simple Plan CD yesterday, and I am now fully obsessed with it and the new Good Charlotte CD. I was going to write something off the GC CD, since my sis Lakie already wrote a fic for S.O.S. But then I decided that this song rocked my miss-matched socks actually, I'm only wearing one….I sprained my left ankle yesterday, and I can't fit a sock over it now , and I have been listening to it on repeat non-stop for going on 2 hours now. What else was I to do besides drive my mom nuts by singing it off-key and very loudly but write a fanfic in its likeness?

Do homework, I suppose. Yeah, that would be a good idea. But oh well, I've never been the one for good ideas

So before this author's note and my massively growing headache achieves greatness bigger then the election this year My vote's going to an inanimate object. Hey, it's a free country….I'll vote for who I want. Besides, I'm not old enough to vote anyway., I'm going to end it. Not like any of you have actually made it to this point anyway. I'd bet my vocabulary skills that most of you have fallen either unconscious or dead already. But just in case anyone's actually made it this far….have a cookie. Congratulations. You must not be easily bored.

Yes, well then….

**Disclaimer:** I don't own a car, or a cell phone. What does that have to do with this? Absolutely nothing. But if anyone out there's looking to buy me a Christmas present, I just thought I'd voice that out there. Of course, maybe a car wouldn't be such a good idea….I can't drive yet….

Forget I said that. A car would be prefect ….onto the real disclaimer, then, since this author's note is reaching into the 500 words category….

I do not own All Grown Up. But I think you'd have figured that out by now. I do not own Simple Plan….at least not yet….

::Evil laughter::

Please don't flame….I burn easily

….

"Open the door, Dil." Tommy demanded, rapping on it lightly with his knuckles, "Dinner's ready."

"Nah," he heard Dil mumble, "I'm not really hungry."

"Mom says you gotta' come down, Dil." Tommy reported, tapping his foot impatiently. After he didn't hear a reply, he tried again, "Mom says there are avocado and fish shish-kabobs to eat, and she saved you some….well, all of them, actually." He waited a few moments more, before knocking on the door again, a little harder this time.

Finally he gave up, heading back downstairs. Shrugging at his parents, he sat down, ignoring the worried look on his parent's faces. He was used to it now. It was all they ever did anymore.

….

_1 year earlier_

His whole life was shattered with just one word. _'Cancer.' _Just one word tore everything apart. It broke him, emptied him of all hope. _'Cancer'_. With just one simple word, everything had changed.

_'No!'_ He had replied, '_That doesn't really happen to people!'_

The doctor had assured him that it did. It did happen to people. Real people_, just like him_. Now he had it too.

He watched as his mother's eyes watered, and he saw his brother's hand holding on so tightly to the chair that his knuckles were turning pale white.

_'I'm dreaming, I know I am. Don't cry mom, I'm dreaming.' _He had started shouting after the doctors head shook sadly, '_I'm going to wake up….any minute now!'_ The doctor reached out to him, presumably to calm him down, but he shrunk back from the touch. Getting hysterical, he started to yell. _'Get it out of me! I don't want it!'_

His mother was crying, he saw it. But he couldn't control himself. He just kept screaming and thrashing around, _'Make it leave!'_

He wasn't making sense; all that was coming out now was incoherent screams thrown together with sobs. A nurse had come in, and was quickly protruding a needle into his arm.

_'It's alright, it really is. This is just the way he's handling it, it'll get better. '_ She was saying, as his parents were comforting each other. His brother was no where to be seen.

Dil felt the world begin to sway, and all the voices morphed together, rolling into one big blur of colorless sight and sound. As the grey began to fade to black, and the dizziness enveloped him, he whispered, '_Make it go away….'_

….

_8 months later_

"—so I can't come over tonight." Tommy said into the receiver, and then paused. "Sorry."

"That's okay." The voice on the other line said, laughing quietly, "I'll just have to suffer through all Kimi and Lil's _girl_ talk, and…."

Tommy laughed as well, "Sorry, Phil. But if they start to get those scary grins on again, _run._ As well as you might look in a makeup, I'd prefer to not have you turned into Lil…._again._"

Phil's laugh turned into a hollow one, and a prolonged silence hung in the air. Their merry conversation had turned into the same question asked over and over again. "How's he doing?"

Tommy paused again, and let the silence draw on. Finally he spoke, "He lost some of his hair."

Another round of silence. Phil breathed lightly, realizing how loud it actually sounded in the silence. "Oh…." was all he could make come out.

"Yeah." Tommy whispered. "He didn't even cry. He just went downstairs and showed mom. She was more upset then him. She called the doctor….he said it's normal. He's going to the barber tomorrow to get it all shaved off."

Tommy heard the other line being shifted around, and soon he heard Lil's voice replace her brother's. "Hey, Tommy." He heard Kimi yell '_Hi_' from the background. "So you can't come over tonight? That's a bummer."

Tommy started to nod his head, but then realized Lil couldn't see it. "Yeah, but Dil got really sick today, so I have to watch him while mom and dad go visit grandpa."

He heard Lil whispering to Kimi, most likely telling her why he wouldn't be over. He heard the line crinkle a bit, and then Lil came back on. "That's okay Tommy, we understand. Well, I'll talk to ya' later! We've gotta' go!" He heard Phil and Kimi shouting their goodbyes into the receiver.

"Bye guys." He said quietly, and kept on listening, even after the dial tone run into his ears. How many times had this happened before? He knew his friends understood, but he couldn't help but feeling like he was purposely ditching them.

"Okay, Tommy." Didi and Stu came into the living room, grabbing their coats from the coat rack. "Dil's upstairs and he's wearing a hat right now, so if he gets too hot, just turn the fan on. We'll be back soon, love you." With that, she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, and followed Stu out the door.

They didn't even have to ask if he'd be okay anymore. He always lied and said yes anyway.

….

_3 months later_

Dil rubbed his boney hand over his bald head. He would never get used to it, all his hair being gone. His curly red locks had all been shaved off after he started losing it in small fuzzy patches. He figured his mother had been more upset over it then he had.

Replacing his striped knit hat over his head, he closed his eyes. He was never bored anymore—in fact, he figured that he was immune to it by now. He had used to get so insanely bored lying in bed all day that he would start screaming that something was trying to get him, so his brother or his parents would come up. But he wasn't bored anymore. Not when he was going to die, you just can't get bored when you know you're going to die.

No one ever mentioned it—his dying. But he knew it was inevitable, and he knew no one would mention it around him. He saw the fear in his friend's eyes whenever he complained about feeling sick. He knew what they were thinking….'_How much time does he have left?'_. He didn't know the answer. He didn't want to know.

Tommy never did anything anymore. He had quit soccer, much to Phil and Lil's surprise. He had quit Science club, against the protests of Chuckie and Kimi. He never made movies anymore; he had buried his video camera under his bed somewhere. Everyone knew to be careful around him—he was almost as delicate as his brother was now. Even Angelica never said anything rude to him anymore, and she even came over to visit Dil more then anyone expected.

But everything was different. Phil and Lil never left each other's sides anymore, afraid the same thing that happened with Tommy and Dil would happen with them. Chuckie and Kimi didn't fight as much anymore. No one could look at Dil without turning away and whispering, '_Poor dear…'_.

And he hated it.

He hated feeling weak, he hated seeing the look on his parent's faces and his brother's every time the word '_cancer_' was mentioned. He hated this feeling he got, knowing he was going to die. He hated knowing he was never going to grow up. He hated everything anymore.

_Do you ever feel like breaking down?_

_Do you ever feel out of place?_

_Like somehow you just don't belong_

_And no one understands you_

Tommy always tried to talk to him, to do things with him. He was never up to it anymore. They played video games sometimes, and watched TV together, but soon Dil would get tired, and have to lie down.

He was so tired all of the time. He missed the energy he used to have, always hyper and enthusiastic. He missed his creativity and individuality. It had all gone when he had been diagnosed. And it was never coming back.

He had lost so much weight recently that he was now just skin and bones. But he had no appetite, and even when he did, he usually threw it up. His skin was pale…he didn't even look like Dil anymore. Dylan Prescott Pickles didn't exist anymore.

_Do you ever wanna run away?_

_Do you lock yourself in your room?_

_With the radio on turned up so loud_

_That no one hears you screaming_

Chuckie, Kimi, Phil, Lil, Angelica, and Susie all came over a lot, either to hang out with Tommy, or see how Dil was doing. Phil and Lil came over the most, and Dil suspected it was because they still blamed themselves for dropping him on his head. It wasn't their fault though. It wasn't anyone's.

Dil now had a bad habit of blaring his radio or his TV. He fell asleep to it, and instantly woke up if someone turned them off. He always had the lights in his room turned off, and the curtains shut. There was no more light in his life. Anywhere.

It was a few days later when Dil saw Tommy rummaging under his bed. He finally pulled out what he had been looking for—his video camera. He pointed it straight at Dil, and said, "I love you."

Dil opened his mouth to speak, but his voice cracked. Licking his dry lips, he whispered, "_I love you too, T."_

And that was that. Tommy took his camera, and shut the door behind him, going into his room.

_No you don't know what it's like_

_When nothing feels alright_

_You don't know what it's like to be like me_

It was a month later when they found out he was dying. He was truly dying.

"The cancer has spread." His doctor stated, sympathetic eyes staring at his parents, "And there is nothing we can do."

There was nothing they could do…not after all these years of people dying from cancer…there was nothing they could do. It had robbed millions of young children of their lives…and it was going to take his too…and there was nothing they could do.

And there was nothing _he_ could do. Except sit and watch. He had sat there and watched as Dil Pickles had died—1 year ago, he had died. The day they discovered he had cancer. He had died that day. And now he was going to die again. And all he could do was take a backseat and watch.

_To be hurt_

_To feel lost_

_To be left out in the dark_

_To be kicked_

_When you're down_

_To feel like you've been pushed around_

_To be on the edge of breaking down_

_When no one's there to save you_

_No you don't know what it's like_

_Welcome to my life_

Dil had one month left, they expected. One month until he was gone for good. He could see it in everyone's eyes now—more then ever. No one was appreciating the time they had left with him now—they were just terrified of when his time to go was coming.

And he cried. He had never cried in his life before, besides that day in the hospital. But he cried now, everyday. He cried so much that the tear lines were permanently stained onto his cheeks. He cried because he was scared—for once in his life, he was really scared. He wasn't ready to die…he wasn't ready to give up everything he had worked for. He wasn't ready to leave everyone he loved behind.

He just wasn't ready. He never would be.

_Do you wanna be somebody else?_

_Are you sick of feeling so left out?_

_Are you desperate to find something more?_

_Before your life is over_

It was even sadder to see how the people he loved reacted to this. His mother couldn't look at him without bursting into tears…Tommy sat by his bed everyday, staring at him. He refused to believe that this was his brother. His brother that he had grown so close to, his brother that he had grown up with…his brother that he _loved._

_Are you stuck inside a world you hate?_

_Are you sick of everyone around?_

_With the big fake smiles and stupid lies_

_But deep inside you're bleeding_

His radio wasn't on anymore—it didn't matter how loud he screamed…nothing mattered anymore. He had nothing to worry about. He was going to die anyway, why worry? And for once in his life, about a week after the doctor shared the grave news, Dil felt at peace.

_No one ever lies straight to your face_

_And no one ever stabbed you in the back_

_You might think I'm happy _

_But I'm not gonna be okay_

A few days later, Dil was taken to the hospital again.

Everyone knew he could die any minute now, so everyone was saying their goodbyes. The Finster's, the DeVille's, and the Carmichael's…everyone who knew Dil. Tommy came in last.

He took his brother's pale hands in his. Sniffing a little, he began to speak. "Dil…I'm not going to say good-bye. Because I know we'll see each other again some day. I don't know where, and I don't know when…but I know we will. And I know you'll be waiting for me. So…see you then, bro." Tommy's voice remained steady, even after Dil finally stopped breathing.

_Welcome to my life._

….

This goes out to my soul sis, who helped me with that stupid 'picking the show' game, of which I didn't use the results anyway….plus she inspired me to write this from S.O.S, which rocked. Go Lakie!

This fic took me about a month to write, because I was too lazy to write it, lol.

There will be one more chapter….don't forget to review!


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